Sand and Silk
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Slavery takes on many forms- enslavement of the mind, bondage of the body and subjugation of the will. In a time when flesh is sold for money, free will is a luxury that only the rich may enjoy. Harem AU, UKUS.
1. Chapter 1

Dust weighed heavily in the air like a thick blanket, covering him from head to toe. It stuck to him with the sweat the blaring sun had elicited from his body, irritating his eyes and throat. Alfred wished that he could brush the dust away or at the very least shield his eyes from the invasion, but his hands were tied behind his back. The most he could do was shut his eyes closed against the newest gust of dusty wind and hope that a sandstorm wouldn't follow.

Had he been free from his chains, Alfred would have joined the men talking quietly in the tent, shielded from the wind and the beating sunlight. He would have easily accepted a glass of chilled wine from the nearest server and lay back on his couch, discussing market rates and possible private trades. But _oh, _the wine sounded nice. Even a glass of water would have been welcome, Alfred noted, brushing his tongue quickly over his dry lips. It stung and immediately felt vulnerable against the dry wind, but the only answer would be to wet it all over again.

Alfred would have done many things if his hands were free. But at the moment, perhaps even more pressing than the dryness in his throat was the constant buzzing near his ears. Alfred jerked his body sharply with an irritated sigh when he felt another fly rest upon his shoulder.

He couldn't take it anymore. The heat, the dust, the flies...even the smell was unbearable. There were other people sitting in the same closed off section as he was, all hot and sweaty and inevitably smelly. They were all strangers, however, and hadn't met each other before they were led by their owners into the same pin. There was no point to strike up a conversation or be friendly- chances were they would never see each other again.

All in all, the slave market was a miserable place, especially for those slaves who were traded for as little as three jars of oil at times. Most of the patrons didn't like to linger and would usually send their own slaves to purchase new ones for them if they could. There were some, however, that enjoyed the market and found the bidding thrilling. Those were usually the kind of masters you wouldn't want to end up with.

It had been hours, however, and Alfred found the overbearing silence maddening. Sitting around quietly in the dirt, simply _waiting _was not one of the things he was good at, and he wished that it would all end soon. This was an ordeal he had promised himself never to go through again, but here he was, hating every moment of it.

He had messed up, yet again, which was why he was at the market with red marks across his back instead of at the villa with Matthew. At this time of day they would have been setting the table for his master's late breakfast before cleaning the courtyard with his best friend. Now he would never see him again.

"Get up, all of you!"

Alfred's legs obeyed before his mind caught up with his actions. He scrambled to his feet along with the rest of the slaves and looked up with guarded eyes at the trader, a Nubian with dark hair and and currently, an impatient expression. "Form a line and follow me," he barked and nodded in satisfaction when the group did as they were told. Alfred stood behind a trembling young woman and began the long trudge towards the platform, careful not to trip over his own chains.

Alfred tried to ignore the looks they got when they passed shoppers who would quickly glance them over or stopped to stare, but it was hard to block their smug smiles or even worse, their uninterested blank expressions. Despite himself Alfred had turned his head when he heard a small noise to his left. A small girl had stopped her mother and pointed at the chain of shackled slaves, eyes wide as saucers and her mouth agape.

He smiled at the girl, but before she could respond the mother had hurried her along, sending Alfred a dirty look. _Slaves shouldn't be seen nor heard, _the look clearly stated. _Don't call unnecessary attention to yourself. _

Alfred's smile faded and he quickly turned his gaze forward, noting that they had almost reached the auctioning platform. The first few slaves were unchained from the rest of the group, presumably belonging to the same owner, and were led up the wooden stairs and onto the platform, standing still as the auctioneer silenced the gathering crowd and commenced the bidding.

The anxiety of knowing that you will have to stand up there next and be scrutinized by a large crowd made Alfred's stomach churn, but as the hour passed and it was finally his turn to go up, he held his chin high and stared over the crowd's heads. He had been the only one his owner had sent to be sold, which meant that he stood alone on the platform. Alfred could feel all the eyes on him and it made him shift nervously. Other than that, he tried his best to block out the voices that asked questions and made demands.

The auctioneer cleared his throat and approached him, reading the plaque around his neck before grabbing his arm and raising it so that everyone could see. "Here we have a white man, twenty three years of age and in terrific health. Strong and sturdy with all his teeth and limbs in place. Ideal for manual labor."

He turned to fully face the crowd, regarding them for a moment before calling out. "Who will give me a thousand _denar_?"

The bidding had started. Alfred had been dreading that no one would bid on him (which was a common fear among auctioned slaves, in which case they would be sold to a quarry owner), but surprisingly the offers came and rose with every shout. The bidding had been around the three thousand when a loud and clear voice announced "five thousand _denar_."

The offer had abruptly silenced the other bidders. Alfred lowered his eyes from sheer curiosity, searching for the man who had called out. Five thousand _denar _was unheard of for a single slave. He wasn't sure if to feel flattered or insulted. It was easy to spot the man for the crowd had parted ways around him in order for the auctioneer to take notice of him.

The bidder didn't look any different from the average man Alfred had seen in the past. Pale skin, light hair beneath his brown turban and green eyes, a common combination for their region. He was neither remarkably tall nor short, at least from Alfred's perspective on the platform, and according to his slim build he could have easily been a nobleman who hadn't worked a day in his life. There went the hope to work for someone he respected, Alfred thought glumly.

He was led off the platform and into the shaded area where slaves waited to be paid for and claimed by their new owners. Alfred leaned back against the wall, preferring to stand with his legs still chained and waited for the general auction to be over. By the time the trader had entered the walled-off waiting area accompanied by the bidders, the sunlight had begun to fade.

Alfred spotted the man who had bid on him and waited to be approached, but it seemed as if the stranger had bid on other slaves as well. He inspected them carefully, asking them questions in a low voice before nodding at the trader to set them aside for him. When he finally approached Alfred, he looked slightly weary.

"I hope this one doesn't stutter as well, Elrien," the man shot the trader a pointed look. The trader shook his head firmly and narrowed his eyes at Alfred. "Go on, boy. Say something. Tell _mr. _Kirkland what you can do." Alfred looked quickly between the two men, startled by the strange request. "Well, out with it! We don't have all day!" the trader snapped.

Alfred glanced up at the bidder uneasily. "I can cook," he stated, understanding from the silence that followed his words that he should continue. He squared his shoulders. "I can clean and play the flute, and in the past I have been dictated letters by my previous master."

This seemed to have caught the bidder's interest. He looked up and regarded Alfred's face carefully. "Does that mean that you can read and write?" he inquired, genuinely curious. Alfred nodded, which only made the man look even more pleased. He reached out and grabbed his chin, studying his features with a satisfied smile.

"Both handsome and intelligent, then. It would seem that I got you for a good price," he observed smugly before letting go of Alfred's face and straightening up to discuss payment with the trader. Alfred watched them both in confusion as they shook hands, sealing the deal.

He claimed that he knew all about different types of owners and what to expect from day one, but Alfred couldn't figure this man out. For the first part, the bidder didn't look like a lord or a nobleman with the cream colored tunic he was wearing. Those who had riches would flaunt their good fortune by walking around in pure white linen. They wouldn't be so familiar with the traders and merchants from whom they purchased their wares, either.

Alfred was led towards the group of waiting slaves, chained to the last one in line by the neck. He hated the collars, but Alfred knew that it was only temporary until they reached their new home. It still sat heavily on his shoulders, however, and the sweat that was quick to gather beneath it made his skin itch.

The bidder looked them over with a satisfied nod before mentioning for the man beside him to grab the chain and lead them out of the compound.

So they walked.

* * *

_Hanna's Blah-Blah Corner;_

_I haven't posted anything here in ages, haven't I? Well, I promised myself to finish up my unfinished stories I have on here before I start something new, but this plot has been sitting on my mind for a long time. So I suppose I'm apologizing? Idk. _

_Now, about the story. This will be ukus, so please take that into account. By no means does that mean overly uke Alfred or overbearingly seme Arthur, however cliche this first chapter sounds like. But this was all about first impressions and as we all know, they usually end up being wrong. The setting is a mixture of my own imaginary version of Arabia but is on no account historically based or accurate, so please don't point out that there weren't, for example, white slaves. Or anything else that crosses your mind xD_

_All in all I hope that if you had read this you had enjoyed it and will stay for more :) Reviews are highly appreciated since they're a big part of my motivation ;w; _

_-Hanna_


	2. Chapter 2

"Follow me."

The journey had been fast paced and easy. Alfred's new master lived close to town, which meant that the long march in the heat had taken only a few hours including the occasional stops for water. He hadn't seen the green eyed man ever since the latter had stepped into a litter with thick curtains to block the sun, but Alfred didn't mind.

He had unnerved him during their brief encounter, and if he were truly to be his master, they would be seeing much of each other in the near future. His focus wasn't on the elaborate litter- his interest had shifted to the people around him.

They were all beautiful. Every single one of the slaves that had been purchased alongside him were particularly easy on the eyes. They were all dirty and hot and in dire need of rest, but beneath the layer of dust fair skin was clearly visible. Weary eyes of striking colors would regard Alfred guardedly and thick hair would be tucked away at every opportunity in order to cool off.

Alfred had been eager to speak with them and to get to know the people he would be living and working with. It never hurt to have an ally in a new environment and by the look of things during their stops, some of the people already knew each other. They must have been sold by a different trader, Alfred observed, since he hadn't seen them in his own group.

His enthusiasm and wide smile were hard to swallow, apparently. The harder he tried to strike up a conversation as they stood in line for water, the more the men and women would keep to themselves. There was nothing entertaining about travelling to a new house of bondage. There was no reason to pretend to be happy.

Yes, the journey had been quick. But when the group reached the walls of the villa, Alfred wished that he had had more time to adjust to the idea of a new master. Slaved didn't usually change hands more than twice during their lifetime, and here he was starting all over again for the third time. The fact only served to prove a theory Alfred had settled upon when he had been sold the first time- he was simply an unlucky man. Not one who was cursed by the heavens, but one who tried to do the right thing and would make a mess of it, no matter how good his intentions were. Perhaps with this new start he should learn from experience and stop trying to control his fate and just let it happen on its own accord.

The thoughts provoked a sharp sting in Alfred's chest and he shook his head, ridding himself of the mental burden as he followed the young girl dressed in a bright green tunic down the hall. Upon entering the villa he had been unchained from the group and led to the servants' hamam where he had washed the dirt off his skin and was given a fresh new tunic to wear. He had been surprised by the quality of the cloth and had felt it between his thumbs before looking up at the servant that had handed it to him.

"You've made a mistake," he stated with a twang of regret in his voice. He extended his hand with the tunic and meant to hand it back. "This can't be for me."

The attendant had laughed, much to Alfred's bewilderedness and looked at him slyly. "I was surprised too as first. Lord Bonnefoy dislikes crudeness, however, and insists on having everyone in his household finely dressed. Between you and me," the man had leaned close and lowered his voice with a traitorous smile, "lord Bonnefoy spends more than he ought to on luxurious for himself and his favorites. But you won't hear me complaining." The man chuckled again and pushed the tunic back against Alfred's chest. "Take it. Take good care of it, since it's the only one you'll get until you're promoted."

Well, Alfred wasn't complaining either. The cloth felt soft against his skin and he walked and the dark red color was the richest he had ever been allowed to wear, even when he had lived with his family in the capital. The loose pants were identical in color and comfort to the tunic and Alfred couldn't help but bite back the smile as he continued to follow the girl. He was clean, finely dressed and was going to serve in an elaborately decorated home. Now all he needed was to eat.

"You will be working in the kitchens," the girl informed him brusquely, leading him through colorful rooms until they came to a stop in a long vestibule with arches opening to large sleeping halls with mattresses and pillows spread across the floor. She gestured to one of the arches and nodded her head in the new direction. "This is where you will sleep. You may explore your quarters. Meals are served in the minor dining hall. You have the rest of the day off and will report tomorrow morning to the kitchens. Feel free to ask anyone for directions. Any questions?"

Alfred was about to shake his head and let the girl run off to do her work, but the man that had purchased him popped into his mind and he simply had to set his facts straight. "Yes. Lord Bonnefoy...what does he look like? Blond with green eyes? Shortish? Large eyebrows?"

The girl looked at him strangely. "No, he has blue eyes and is rather tall. Are you sure you aren't thinking of the keeper of the household? Mr. Kirkland?"

The name sounded familiar. "So he isn't the lord of the estate?" Alfred asked, though his already knew the answer. No man who had such riches would demean himself to go shopping in the marketplace like any other commoner. He'd send his servant to do so for him, just like he had observed countless times before. The man (Kirkland, he now clearly remembered) who had looked at him in such an objectifying way wasn't his master after all. A wave of relief, as well as curiosity, washed over him.

"No," Alfred snapped out of his speculations at the amused tone that had answered him. He raised a brow and was about to inquire what it was that she found so entertaining, but the girl had shaken her head with a secretive smile and turned to leave. Alfred looked after her with an irritated frown- it seemed that all the slaves around here were in on some big secret they wouldn't share with him. So much for a warm welcoming.

x.x.x

The mattress had felt enchantingly inviting when Alfred had settled down upon it, all too satisfied with his days' work. Two weeks had passed since he had entered the villa's threshold for the first time and he had already made friends within the kitchen staff. Seeing as he was inexperienced when it came to the fancy dishes the master fancied, Alfred had been taken under one of the cooks' wing and was being apprenticed into dessert specialty.

His day was full of halva, sesame cakes and fig tarts, or at least attempts at them. Ashai made preparing them look easy, but once the bowel was transferred into his hands, he would add too much salt or burn the dough. He was making progress, however, and Ashai had proclaimed that he had great hopes for him. As a cook and as a friend, for Ashai wasn't that much older than Alfred himself. What were five years between two lonely men?

"You've been here for a while, Alfred," Ashai said softly as he laid down on his own mattress beside Alfred's in the kitchen's division of the sleeping hall. "What do you think of the villa? The people? Your assignment?"

Alfred turned onto his side and gave Ashai a thoughtful look. "This is easily the most magnificent place I have worked in so far," he said slowly, looking up at the marble columns that even decorated the slaves' quarters. "I enjoy working in a large place. There is always someone new to meet- in my previous master's home, we were only twenty slaves. The only reason he could afford to keep us was because he had inherited a fortune from his uncle."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. No, he hadn't liked his previous master at all, even more so when he had falsely accused him of seducing his daughter. He'd been lucky to have left the man's manor with his head.

"I enjoy what I do, so far. But I haven't left the lower floors in days." There hadn't been any need for Alfred to venture up to the lord's rooms and halls on the higher floors- he may be a house slave, but he didn't clean or serve the master directly. He was in the kitchens all day. "I've never even met the people I prepare food for. It's a dramatic change from my previous masters to whom I catered night and day. It will take me some time to adjust."

Ashai nodded his head sympathetically. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it in time. I came from a village myself, so the transition was twice as hard for me. Everything was huge!" Alfred chuckled at that. If there was something Bonnefoy enjoyed aside from extravagance and good food, it was the constant additions and renovations of his villa. The rooms were indeed the size of some houses. Alfred wouldn't have been surprised if the palace of the Shah himself looked similar to the Bonnefoy villa.

"So who's in charge here? Anyone I need to watch out for?" Alfred added playfully, all too delighted when the trademark secretive smile all the Bonnefoy slaves had appeared on Ashai's face.

"In matter of fact, yes, there is," he informed Alfred quietly, looking over his shoulder before scooting closer next to the other man. "Lord Bonnefoy may own us all, but he's too occupied with his harem and guests to pay any attention to those who work on the lower floors. That's why he has Kirkland supervise us all and manage the finance of the household. If there's someone you don't want to catch you when you're breaking the rules, it's him. He has a terrible temper and walks around with a permanent frown on his face along with his worry lines. He's too young to have them, really. I guess running a household is stressful work."

Alfred perked up at the mentioning of Kirkland. "Really? When I met him he smiled at me," he pondered, twisting the truth somewhat. Smirking didn't sound half as good. "He didn't look that young to me. How old is he?"

"Twenty five," Ashai said solemnly, fully expecting the wide eyes and doubting tone to Alfred's voice. "What? That can't be! Why would lord Bonnefoy entrust the management of his household to someone so young?"

The secretive smile was back on Ashai's face. "Because he was guilted into it by Kirkland's mother. He had taken her into his harem when she was pregnant from her previous owner and she made him promise that he wouldn't abandon her baby when it was clear that she wouldn't survive the birth. At least, that's what I heard," he added quickly, noticing the scandalized expression that dominated Alfred's features.

They argued about Ashai's sources for the tale, who admitted that he heard quite a few variations of it ever since entering Bonnefoy's service, but in the end they settled on agreeing to disagree. Alfred refused to believe that the confident and infuriating man he had met in the market was the son of a disgraced harem wife.

It just didn't make sense.

x.x.x

An air of excitement followed Alfred as he carefully balanced the plate of sweets in his hands as he walked up the stairs. He had made a perfect batch of almond cookies and had been allowed to deliver them personally to one of the lesser wives in the harem. It was his first time in the living quarters and as he walked down the richly carpeted halls he couldn't help but be stricken with awe at every turn. He had grown used to the aesthetics of the slaves' quarters, but the upper floors consisted of one lap of luxury after another.

The harem wing was easily accessible from the kitchens and soon enough he was guided by a large eunuch through silken curtains and padded seats. Women in bright chemises and transparent veils were lounging on couches sipping wine or sitting in corners whispering together in hushed voices. The strong fragrance of perfume permeated the air, rivaling the exotic scent of the fruits offered to the women on every table. It was true, then- lord Bonnefoy saved no expense when it came to his harem. Every girl was treated like a queen and many of them acted like one, snapping at slaves for the smallest mistakes. It was as if they forgot that they had been on the auction block as well.

The rooms, while almost overbearingly beautiful, made Alfred uneasy. He hated the demeaning looks he felt on his back as he passed the women and the heady mixture of aromas clouded his mind. He suddenly felt a strong urge to be back down in the kitchen with the sweet odor of fresh bread and honeyed cakes.

However, as he set the plate of cookies down on one of the tables, a stab of jealousy pierced through him. Most of these women used to be slaves as well, and the only reason why they weren't toiling in the baths or sweeping floors was due to their natural beauty. Their pretty faces had earned them a lifetime of luxury without working for their position at all. Alfred had labored in every household he had been brought into, but no one had ever eased his way for him for his looks. Admittedly, there was nothing particularly striking about him, but the large collection of beauty in closed quarters rubbed him the wrong way.

"You! I've seen you before!"

Alfred straightened up and turned around quickly, careful to bow low to the lady that addressed him before looking up and almost gasping in surprise.

One of the women he had travelled with in the small group to the villa was standing in front of him, well groomed and glowing from care. Her jet black hair had a new sheen to it and her lips had been painted red behind her veil. She rested on a large couch full of cushions and silken pillows, dressed in fabric so finely woven that the dress was practically sheer. Alfred averted his eyes at first, but curiosity overcame his embarrassment and he turned to face the woman fully.

"Yes, we were purchased on the same day," he reminded her quietly, slightly pleased at the rise of color in the other's cheeks as she recalled the height of shame in any slave's life. Their previous lives before entering the harem were probably never discussed.

She stiffened and narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, yes. I remember you. We were wondering about you, you know, when you were separated from us when we first arrived. We thought you'd be part of the harem too."

It was Alfred's turn to hide his emotions. "To who do you refer by 'we', my lady?" Alfred frowned, looking closely at the woman's face. Her smile was smug when she answered him, laying back against the pillows lazily.

"By 'we' I mean the group, of course. We were all brought here right away. You have been selected for a different purpose, it seems. Pity," she reached out and helped herself to a cookie from Alfred's platter. She ran over his uniform with her eyes. "You're in the kitchens now, I gather? Well, I'm sure you're a credit to your assignment," she finished with a pretty smirk, waving her hand in dismissal. "You may leave."

Stung by the cleverly disguised insults, Alfred make a quick bow and hurried out of the room, out of the harem quarters and back down the stairs to his sleeping hall, hoping Ashai would cover up for him until he returned to the kitchens.

His head hurt. Out of the whole group that had been purchased on the same day as him, he was the only one that had been sentenced to slavery in the traditional sense of the word. The rest of them, women and men alike, had been welcomed into the harem and were pampered ever since they set foot in the villa.

It was hardly like Alfred had _wanted _to offer his body to a perfect stranger like an expensive prostitute and to sit around all day doing nothing. The insults had followed him, however, and the blatant exclusion winded him. He had been clearly disqualified from entry to the harem and had been thrown into one of the kitchens instead. He wasn't good enough.

_Fuck it._

* * *

_Hanna's Blah-Blah Corner;_

_I can't believe I actually finished this! xD Thank you so much for all your kind reviews! I hope I won't disappoint you all :) I don't really have much to say, surprisingly, but I do have a question- I have a few pictures and books on which I base some of the descriptions, especially the architecture and clothes. Would anyone be interested in a list of references in order to visualize the story better, seeing as many aren't familiar with the Middle East's charictaristics?_

_Thank you for reading- stay tuned for the next chapter, given if the world doesn't end W It's already the 21st for me over here. Please leave a review if you have the time! :D_

_-Hanna_


	3. Chapter 3

Alfred had gotten used to the hustle and bustle of the kitchen with the heavy blanket of heat from the ovens following him everywhere he turned. When he would leave on an errand, even the warm desert air was cool on his face. Nevertheless, the human warmth and the aroma of baked goods would draw him back in time after time. His daily goals to master a new recipe or to befriend a kitchen worker he had yet to speak to would keep him inside for hours upon hours.

It was a wonder that he maintained his coloring, as Ahai pointed out one day as they were sprinkling salt over the meat for the lord's evening meal. "They usually go pale by now," Ashai maintained while studying Alfred's tanned features who in turn shrugged. It appeared that the hours he had spent under the sun in the fields for his previous master had permanently left their mark on his skin.

Ashai shook his head and set the salt dish aside. "We should probably spice this up," he suggested and stretched over the limestone counter in order to reach the cumin on the top shelf. Ashai was height challenged and Alfred couldn't help but smile broadly at the comical display, whether it was intentional or not on his friend's part. Ashai turned his head and glared at him, lowering his outstretched arms and allowing them to drop at his sides. "Well then, oh tall and mighty one. I'd like to see you reaching that."

Taking on the challenge, Alfred leaned forward and reached for the top shelf as well, easily encircling the dish with his fingers and pulling it down. He offered it to Ashai with a flourish. "With pleasure," he said sweetly, biting back the smug smile. Ashai grinned widely and snatched the dish from Alfred's hand. "You bastard," he shook his head while sprinkling a dash of the cuman on the meat. Alfred simply chuckled and bent down to pick up the basin he had filled with dirty dishes during the day. "You know it!" he confirmed cheerfully as he turned towards the exit, prepared to deposit the basin with the scullery maids.

He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. "You're Alfred, right?"

Alfred turned around and readjusted his hold on the basin. "Yes I am," he nodded, studying the other man. He was younger than him and if Ashai had been wondering about Alfred's tanned skin, he would have been amazed by the pasty white coloring of this servant. Both were unnatural in their environment. The contrast applied to their clothes as well- Alfred's uniform may be new but the hours he spent near the ovens made the initial gleam fade. This boy, however, was wearing a neatly pressed tunic with golden buttons. The only indication that he was a slave was that Alfred had seen his sort of uniform before.

"How may I help you?" Alfred asked cautiously, maintaining a small smile. From his short experience with the harem, he had no wish to venture there again. His curiosity had been sated for decades.

Apparently the heavens didn't see it that way.

The harem slave looked relieved. "Oh good. I thought I would never find you- the mistress didn't give me much to go on. Oh, the mistress!" he worried his lip, meeting Alfred's eyes anxiously. "My mistress has requested that you serve her the evening meal. She asked that you come at once." By the frightened look in the young man's eyes it was obvious that he had experienced her displeasure at his failings before. "Please come."

Alfred frowned and set the basin back down on the floor. This might take a while. He didn't know anyone in the harem aside from the concubine that had insulted him weeks before- it was probable that she was the one who had requested him. He was in no mood to be tormented but an order was an order. He would only be punished if he refused and would bring the woman's fury on her slave's head as well.

If he was boring enough and didn't rise to her provocations, perhaps she would tire of him and let him be.

"Alright. I'll go."

.x.

Laline, as her name turned out to be, had a knack for treading over delicate eggshells. Information was her weapon and she would use it against anyone she wanted to harm. Flattery and obedience would only get you so far- if you wanted to please the lord's newest plaything, gossip was your currency. Unfortunately, Alfred had none.

She did, though. Snide remarks and sweetened insults poured as he served her, keeping a straight face. Alfred couldn't figure out what she was aiming for. Did she want him to become her spy? Did she see him as a threat? Or perhaps female spite was the only thing she had to dwell on when the lord didn't spend his nights with her? Was her appeal wearing off?

Whatever the reason was, the concubine had targeted him and planned on making his life miserable the moment she ordered him to come back the next day. If this venom was to be portioned out to him daily, Alfred almost regretted complying in the first place. One punishment was preferable to recurring torment.

As he exited the left wing, Alfred allowed the forced smile to fade from his face and the frustrated scowl take its' place. He wouldn't simply stand there and do nothing as Laline vented her anger at him. Perhaps she would think twice about having him serve her every evening if her soup was too sweet or her humus replaced with tehina.

With renewed determination Alfred turned the corner, his muscles relaxing as he went through the familiar corridor which lead to his dormitory. It was dark and only a few torches lit up the hall. No one would mind if he were to skip dinner- there would be more for everyone else. The only unfamiliar quality to the normally noisy hall was the blaring silence. Everyone must be eating, then.

But no- it wasn't completely silent. At the far end two figures were arguing in hushed voices, just loud enough to hear the angry tone. Alfred paused a short distance from them, looking hesitantly at the doorway just to his right. He knew he shouldn't be eavesdropping, but information was an important bargaining tool. If he just happened to overhear the right discussion, maybe he wouldn't have to ruin Laline's food after all.

Before he could hear anything worthwhile, however, one of the figures raised his head and spotted him, resting his sharp gaze on him. Alfred froze, ready to run if he had to, but the man didn't call out or alert his companion. Instead, he cut the other off mid -sentence and finished their conversation with a gruff promise to add an extra bag of gold for his silence.

The companion nodded and walked away in the other direction, still unaware to Alfred's presence. The man who had spotted him lingered, keeping his eyes on Alfred and signaling for him to stay where he was. The moment the other was out of hearing range, the stranger allowed himself to speak.

"You there! Come here immediately," he ordered with a strong tone of authority. Even had Alfred wanted to escape, it was obvious that the stranger was a higher up. It wouldn't be wise to run off quite yet. Gingerly he walked over to the man, studying him as his featured cleared in the torchlight.

He hadn't been on his mind for weeks, but there he was again, standing in front of him and scrutinizing him closely just like that day on the market. Alfred wasn't sure if he should be weary or excited. His eyes were the same shade of green as before.

"I remember you," Kirkland cut off his line of thought, raising his brows at him. "You're the literate one." Alfred nodded, smiling hesitantly. The smile quickly disappeared as Kirkland's assessing gaze turned critica. "Well then. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Alfred blinked in confusion. "What do you mean, sir?" he asked slowly. The question only incited the other, however, as he snapped impatiently at him. "What were you doing walking the halls alone at this hour? You should be in the dinner hall."

"I was returning from the harem, sir," Alfred said cautiously, unable to read Kirkland's mood. He didn't know what to say to please him. At this rate, he could be punished. "I was serving dinner."

It was Kirkland's turn to look surprised. "Serving dinner?" he looked down at Alfred's uniform, "but you work in the kitchens. The harem servants are supposed to do that."

Alfred frowned. "I know that, sir. I was requested especially by one of the women to serve her."

"I see," Kirkland looked at him thoughtfully, the hostile gleam in his eyes tranquilized for the time being. "How curious."

The man turned silent, simply studying Alfred in the dim light. It made him uncomfortable despite the fact that the looming danger had passed for the meantime, though it didn't mean that he was about to risk any sort of action that would displease the authority. It felt like eternity until Kirkland snapped out of his deep concentration and smiled a satisfied smile at him.

"Yes, I think you'll do. Please report to my office tomorrow evening. You might just be of use to me," he determined with a short nod. Before Alfred could protest he had turned and walked away, the golden thread on his dark brown tunic reflecting the torchlight. There was no room for questioning his will.

Perhaps he could ruin Kirkland's food instead.

.x.

"Come in."

Alfred pushed open the wooden door and walked into the small room, closing the door behind him. The room, while small, had a cozy aura created by the imported persian carpeting and the blazing fire in the hearth. Scrolls and manuscripts were spread across Kirkland's desk and were carefully sorted on a shelf next to the painted wall. The only chill came from Kirkland's cold smile.

"Oh yes," he looked up from the parchment on his desk and set down his quill. "Sit down," Kirkland gestured to the empty chair opposite him. Alfred took his seat with as much soticness as he could manage, but nothing could disguise the nervousness in his voice. "You asked me to come, sir...?"

Kirkland nodded. "So I did. I have a proposition for you- what did you say your name was?"

Alfred sat up straight in his chair, fully alert. This was the first time anyone had asked for his opinion on his appointment. Who consulted a slave if he would like to do his job? "Alfred, sir," he answered dutifully, trying to keep his curiosity at bay.

"Right then, Alfred. I have been in need of an assistant to help me manage the household account. Obviously said assistant needs to be able to read and calculate numbers as well as write them down. This is where you come in," he paused, measuring Alfred sharply. "Can you read this?"

Alfred looked down at the parchment Kirkland had turned around to face him and glanced at the pointed phrase. "'Lord Bonnefoy," he read aloud. Warmth spread through his cheeks at the other's pleased smile.

"Continue reading," Kirkland prompted as he pushed back from the desk and stood up, walking around the table to stand behind Alfred, his head hovering over his shoulder as he made sure that the servant was reading correctly. Alfred could read perfectly well but the man's lingering presence behind his chair unnerved him- Kirkland had a knack for doing just that.

Nevertheless he continued to read out account after account of various purchases made during the previous week, some rather mundane such as food and wine. Others, such as gold or fine fabric were far more exotic to the ear. Alfred had started an account of a recent purchase of figs when he felt a sudden weight on his shoulders. His body stiffened at the warmth bleeding out of Kirkland's hands and stopped his reading.

His reaction didn't seem to phase Kirkland. "I didn't tell you to stop," he snapped and Alfred immediately continued, albeit with an uneven voice. He raced through the sentences until the weight on his shoulders eased and the man was sitting in front of him once more.

"You may stop now," Kirkland proclaimed, sighing tiredly. "Go now. I will summon you later."

Alfred nodded mutely and stood up from his chair, bowing from the waist up and quickly making his way to the door and down the hall. He hadn't noticed that he had been running until he found himself next to the kitchen archway out of breath.

What had just happened?

* * *

_Hanna's Blah-Blah Corner;_

_Hello everyone! Thank you for taking the time to read the third chapter of Sand and Silk. I know that this update has been terribly late but I'm sure that you would rather not hear the list of projects and exams that have taken up most of my time since the middle of December xD I did participate in the Israeli Model UN last week as Iran in the ECOSOC committee and that was fun, though! I even wore a hijab in order to be authentic *grin* One of the topic discussions was legalizing same sex marriage and it was very interesting for me since, as you know, I write gay porn and in general very gay friendly. Iran isn't, though, so I had to preach against homosexuality the whole day. Very amusing, all in all xD_

_In any case, back to the story. Thank you all very much for your reviews and comments! I would like to remind you all that while I like adding realism to the story, it's a work of fiction and the world it is based in is a mashup of different middle-eastern cultures. Now for the reference list I promised you- you can see it on my tumblr page :) The link is hannaadi88. tumblr. com (remove the spaces)._

_Thank you very much! A review would be very welcome :)_

_-Hanna_


	4. Chapter 4

The words began to blur in front of Alfred's eyes. Frowning, the man blinked his eyes rapidly in an attempt to sharpen his eyesight and sat a little straighter in his chair. The last thing he wanted was to give the overseer a reason to dismiss him and appoint somebody else as his assistant. Granted, Alfred didn't enjoy his job much, but he couldn't deny the effects of his new position on his life. Effects that he wouldn't trade for the world.

Word spread quickly in the slaves quarters and by the time Alfred had woken up the day after his first session with Kirkland, people around him began to treat him differently. Nobody had woken him the other day when he had overslept and had ignored the fact that he had been late to the kitchens, preferring to greet him with warm smiles. People he had never spoken to before would come up to him and strike up a conversation as he would roll out the dough for Ashai, showing interest that they had never expressed before.

The same rule applied for mealtime. Alfred had noticed that even if he were late, there was always somebody who would call him over and announced that he had saved him a seat. Older women would offer him their dried apricots and other sweetmeats as he would pile his plate high from the bowls and platters in the middle of the long table.

Yes- it appeared to be that ever since he began to personally work for Arthur Kirkland, the sun shone brighter. Everyone wanted to appeal to his good side and would every now and then mention minor requests they wished Alfred would repeat to the overseer. Alfred himself didn't dare say a word out of place during his sessions with Kirkland, but the others didn't seem to hear him when he said so.

In their minds, doing Alfred favors would mean that at some point, their lives would improve. Who was Alfred to tell them otherwise when they wanted so badly to believe they finally had a connection to the higher ups?

His relationship with Kirkland, if he were to coin it as such, helped him in other ways as well. Laline had not called upon him to serve her as often as he had feared she would and Alfred had a feeling that it was the overseer's doing. After all, Alfred would be in higher spirits after an evening without having to enter the harem which would equal into quality work, as far as Kirkland was concerned.

At some point Alfred might have entertained theories of Kirkland intervening for him in the harem simply because he disliked seeing Alfred in such distress, but he knew well enough to wave such thoughts away and focus on the task in hand.

All of this would be lost should he fail Kirkland in some way. What with the way the man was looking at him at the moment, Alfred knew that he was in trouble.

"That can't be right," the man frowned at him from the other side of the desk, looking up at Alfred from his parchment. "I don't recall selling any wax this week. Show me where it says that."

Bracingly, Alfred leaned over the table and presented Kirkland with the list he had been given to read aloud, pointing at the word he had been accused of getting wrong. The other gave it a brief glance before meeting Alfred's gaze with a furrowed brow.

"So it says. That's strange. I could have sworn..." Kirkland trailed off, lost in his thoughts. Alfred meanwhile pulled back and lowered his head, wondering if he was to continue reading or to remain silent as the other man thought. There had been a few moments like these in the past and every one of them had warranted a different reaction, one Alfred usually failed to deliver.

While he waited for some sort of reprimandation, Alfred watched as the other man stood up from his chair and began pacing the small room, occasionally looking up at one of the tapestries with a worried expression. It was only when the fire in the grate popped that Kirkland seemed to snap back into awareness and realize that Alfred was still there. Quickly, his trademark scowl framed his lips.

"You are to tell this to no one," he hissed at Alfred, walking up to him and grabbing him by the wrist, ignoring the way it made the other flinch. "Look at me and promise not to breathe a word of this."

Alfred raised his gaze and nodded, doing nothing to disguise the alarm in his eyes. If Kirkland had wanted to scare him into obedience, well, he got it. The other man seemed appeased at last and let go of Alfred, standing back and lifting the parchment Alfred had been reading aloud from the desk, looking over the list idly.

"You're dismissed," the man informed Alfred nonchalantly, not even bothering to raise his eyes from the parchment. Relieved, Alfred stood up and bowed his head respectfully before turning around to leave. As he made his way to the door, however, a hand wrapped around his waist and stopped him from moving.

Freezing on the spot, Alfred could feel his shoulders tense as a warm body pressed itself along his back. "You should really watch what you're eating, Alfred. You've gained weight," Kirkland's deep voice sounded in his ear, his warm breath brushing against the sensitive skin.

With an indignant sound Alfred pried himself away from the man, flushing with embarrassment and anger. Now _that _was uncalled for. What did Kirkland care what he ate? He was his assistant, not his bedmate!

A little too late, the realization that he had disobeyed a nonverbal order kicked in. He had deliberately pulled away from a touch initiated by his superior. If he had been worried about losing his position before, well, now he was certain of it. Alfred paled and bowed, doing his best to think of an appropriate apology. He was stopped, however, when he heard the other man laugh.

He raised his eyes, bemused, and saw that indeed, Kirkland was laughing.

"I knew you had spunk the moment I saw you on that auction block, looking over our heads as if you were some sort of deity," the man said with an amused tone, looking Alfred over as if he had never seen him before. "It appears to be that I will have to break you in."

It was with worrying ease that the man walked across the room to his desk and seated himself in his usual seat, meeting Alfred's eyes with languid confidence. "I enjoy a challenge."

Once Kirkland lowered his eyes and reached out for his parchment, Alfred considered himself dismissed and walked out of the room, waiting until he was leaning against a column in the hall to shake his head in bewilderment, quickly reviewing the past hour in his mind.

If he would have been presented with a _denar _every single time he had been left confused or apprehensive by his evening session with Kirkland, surely he would have been able to purchase his freedom by then.

x

For the next few weeks, Alfred made sure to watch what he ate, despite resenting every sweet he denied himself. He had a feeling that if he continued to consume as much as he used to, the overseer would be sure to point it out. If he were quite honest with himself, he wouldn't terribly mind losing the extra respect he had from assisting Kirkland if he were to be left alone for a while.

Alfred made a conscious effort to avoid going to help the other man every night by coming up with tasks that _simply couldn't be postponed. _He would take on extra cooking assignments and send Ashai in his stead to apologize to Kirkland for his delay. Alfred knew that he was taking a huge risk every time he came late to their sessions or simply didn't come at all- he was a slave and didn't have the right to refuse an order. In any other case he would have been punished.

Kirkland however didn't seem to mind too much, or at least he didn't show it. Whenever Alfred did show up to their sessions the man would mostly ignore him and work on his own papers, engrossed with what looked to be letter after letter. Once he'd realize that he didn't have any real work to do, Alfred would quietly dismiss himself and join the other slaves for dinner.

Perhaps Kirkland's proclamation had all been an illusion. Perhaps it never happened at all. Maybe Alfred hadn't understood the other's words correctly. Whatever had happened, the overseer made no more advances on Alfred or reminded him of his goal.

For a short while, Alfred knew the perfect life.

That was, until he was called to serve the evening meal in the harem once again. Agitated, Alfred contemplated the reasons behind being summoned there again in front of Ashai as the other was preparing the meal he was to serve.

"I mean, it's been weeks since that witch called for me," Alfred worried his lip as he smoothed down the front of his tunic.

"Why is she suddenly summoning me again? Maybe... maybe she had been distracted by some other unfortunate soul and finally broke him and is now coming back for me. I swear, Ashai, that woman only finds pleasure in another's pain. What do you think- Ashai, aren't you listening to me?"

Ashai turned his head from the dates he was glazing over with honey, giving Alfred a sympathetic look. "Yeah, I'm listening. I can't help but think that this has something to do with your decline in Kirkland's favor, though. Wasn't he the one who put an end to these summons?"

He handed him the platter before Alfred had a chance to process an answer. "Here, take these. Just do as you always do- bow your head and don't respond to her baiting. You've done it before; I'm sure you'll be fine," he gave Alfred's shoulder a light squeeze. "Good luck."

Alfred smiled nervously at his friend and thanked him before balancing the platter out of the kitchen and up the stairs into the harem. His body became heavier with every step he took in the silk covered paradise.

The scent of perfume and spice assaulted his senses in a way that made him slightly drowsy, knowing that it would easily lull him to sleep should he have been one of those slaves who worked there all the time. Or perhaps he'd get used to it. Oh, what did he care- he wasn't supposed to be in the harem in the first place.

"Oh, what a lovely surprise," came a silky voice from behind him. Steeling himself, Alfred turned around with a respectful bow and approached the owner of the voice, setting the platter down on the low stool next to her.

Laline positively beamed at him when he straightened his back and really _looked _at her for the first time in weeks. "The one and only Alfred has decided to grace us with his presence. Why, how _kind _of you to visit me here, a lonely harem girl," Alfred furrowed his brows slightly at the bitterness hidden beneath the honeyed words. It wasn't possible that the woman was seeking him out solely for company, was it?

All doubt faded from his mind at her next words. "How curious. Don't you have mr. Kirkland to attend to? He must be worried about his little helper," she smirked, looking up at Alfred from beneath her lashes. Laline lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Is it true, then? Arthur Kirkland has grown tired of you?"

Alfred stiffened. He had considered the break from his duties to Kirkland a blessing, but what were the others thinking when they saw him spend his evenings in the dining hall or with Ashai?

Come to think about it, what were they thinking happened when he _did _spend almost every evening with the overseer?

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alfred said finally, raising his brows at Laline. "Mr. Kirkland hasn't required my help recently, that is all. If he should need me again, I will be glad to assist him as I have done before."

Alfred could have sworn that the other's smirk grew even wider. "So it _is _true! Honestly, the real question is why he put up with you for so long," Laline laughed airily, waving her hand in dismissal. "You may go now. I expect to see you tomorrow as well."

Pursing his lips, Alfred bowed his head and rushed out of the hall, his blood pounding loudly in his ears. He had been glad when Kirkland had started cancelling their sessions, but now he was beginning to feel the gravity of his dismissal, not to mention the sting. If Laline was getting her kicks out of Alfred's new status, well, perhaps he should be sorrier about losing such a position in the first place.

x

"Is this the man, madam?"

Alfred turned around, dropping the basket of bread he had been carrying as he saw a small group of armed men rushing towards him, a sobbing woman at their side. His first instinct was to run, but something told him that should he attempt to get away, it wouldn't end well.

The woman raised her face from her hands and met his eyes. They were red from crying, but Alfred could easily tell that there was something sinister about them. With a jolt, he realized that it was Laline.

"Yes, I'm sure of it."

Immediately, two of the men lunged at him and pinned his arms behind his back. Alfred struggled, but he was no match for two trained guards. "What's going on? What did I do?" he demanded, glaring at the posse. "I don't have time for this sort of nonsense!"

"What's going on here?"

Alfred turned his head and for the first time ever since he arrived at the villa, he was relieved to see the overseer walking towards them. He took the opportunity to point out that he hadn't the faintest idea and was just as surprised as he was, but Kirkland ignored him completely and turned to talk to the head of the guard, pulling him aside.

After a few minutes they both returned. Arthur ordered the men to free Alfred and with a nod from their officer, the two men that had held Alfred in place let him go. Frowning, Alfred massaged his sore wrists as he was told to follow the overseer to his office, accompanied by Laline who trailed triumphantly behind him.

When they had entered the man's office, Kirkland graciously offered Laline his seat while he simply gestured for Alfred to take the spare chair. Alfred anxiously took his seat and waited for the man to speak up and explain what exactly was going on.

"Alfred," Kirkland suddenly spoke up, addressing him directly, "apparently you are being charged with attempted murder," the man paused, allowing the information to sink in.

"This woman here has claimed that you have poisoned her food while serving it to her last night. Before tasting from it herself, she says, her favorite cat took a bite of a glazed date and died. Are you familiar with this particular dish?"

Alfred swallowed thickly, feeling his mouth go dry. "Yes, I...that's what I served her last night. I swear I had no idea that it was poisoned!" he added quickly, clenching his hands on his knees. "I'm innocent!"

"Yes, well, of course you'd say that," Laline snapped, not looking beautiful or appealing for the first time since Alfred had met her.

Alfred shook his head vigorously. "But it's true! Why would I ever want to poison you? What do I have to gain from your death?"

"You were jealous of me!" Laline exclaimed, jumping out of her seat. "You were jealous of my position and beauty and hoped to take my spot once I was gone!"

Alfred opened his mouth in order to shoot back a heated reply but was cut off before he could utter a word by the overseer's sharp words.

"Enough. Madam, I ask that you leave us for the time being. I'll call for the local physician to stop by later on to make sure that you weren't inflicted as well," Kirkland bowed his head and inclined his hand towards the door. "I suggest you spend the rest of your day relaxing. I'll be sure to notify you on future developments and, of course, will inform lord Bonnefoy himself of this occurrence."

With a satisfied look, Laline raised her head and nodded at Kirkland before leaving the room, accompanied by one of the guards who were waiting outside. Once she was gone, Kirkland closed the door firmly behind her and turned to fully face Alfred.

"Well, then. Looks like you've gotten yourself into trouble," he remarked lightly, walking across the room to take the seat Laline had evacuated only moments before. "Apparently you have more enemies than you knew."

Alfred could feel the color in his face drain with every word. "I wasn't lying when I said that I didn't know anything about the poison, sir!" he repeated desperately, swallowing once more. "I swear, I-"

Kirkland raised his hand and Alfred immediately fell silent. "I don't care if you were involved or not, Alfred. Save the dramatics for the passion plays. I do, however, have a proposition for you."

When Alfred remained silent, the overseer smiled and continued. "You have some very serious accusations written against you," he gestured towards a parchment on his desk. "The punishment for attempted murder is hanging. As it's your word against a harem concubine, there's no doubt in my mind that you'll be found guilty."

Alfred could feel his hands go cold. He refused to look away, fearing to displease the man who had complete control over his fate, now.

"However," Kirkland continued, "I might just be able to get you out of this. It would take a lot of my time, of which I have almost none at all, but I'm willing to help you. For a price, that is."

Alfred nodded dully, not the least surprise. He wouldn't have expected any less, after all. "What do you want?"

"You," the man said curtly, standing up and making his way around the desk, leaning back on his heels as he met Alfred's eyes. He reached out and cupped Alfred's chin in his palm. "I'm just an overseer, and I'm not allowed to own any slave of my own, nor can I force somebody against their will without risking lord Bonnefoy's wrath. After all, everyone here belongs to him."

Kirkland took in a deep breath. "If you were to meet with me willingly, though, in secret..." he trailed off, running his thumb over Alfred's lips. "I will save your life. It's a fair exchange, don't you agree?"

Alfred responded automatically to the overseer's advances, commanding himself not to think too much about what he was agreeing to. He would do anything necessary in order to save his life and wasn't about to refuse the only help he was being offered. He didn't resist when Kirkland pulled him up into a kiss, trailing his fingers over the side of his tunic as his tongue forced its way into Alfred's mouth.

This was nothing, Alfred reminded himself. Nothing at all.

* * *

_asdfgjkl;l' I'm so sorry ;;;; I have been meaning to update this story for months but as you all have probably experienced yourselves, the last months of school are the busiest. I have been getting a few reviews these past few weeks, however, and they really motivated me to write this chapter ;;w;; Thank you so much guys! I appreciate every single review I get! And no I'm not very coherent at the moment since it's 4 AM but I'm so happy I'm able to give you guys this chapter *excited flail*_

_So yes. Please do tell me what you think! 3_

_-Hanna_


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